Homemade Tag

With that little red heart-shaped box tucked under one arm and a crudely picked and arranged bouquet of texas wild flowers grasped tightly by a sweaty palm, I make my way up the seemingly-never-ending, mile-long path. Behind the formidable front door stands a forbidding father. Am I more nervous about the date or about impressing dad? My shaky hand reaches out to push the doorbell. My dry mouth struggles to swallow the cotton it is…